The smell of cowdung, overworked gears, and dried animal blood forming a primordial stew in the evening air didn't quite announce to Gust any quote-unquote destination worth the journey. Poor Gust. He hadn't planned on so much drama in trying to get away from his personal crisis. The route 45 bus reached Aliento, the north destination. That's about the only thing north as far as Gust is concerned for his mood took a deep turn south just moments ago. The driver went into the station's bathroom just when Gust came to in the dark of the abandoned bus. While Gust readies himself with the next decision I might as well bring you up to speed on Gusty's evening. For one thing, Gust hasn't had enough distance from the evening's experience to give you a pure account. And second, what are you going to do until the driver returns from the crapper. The Gust file begins in Mill Valley College where the aforementioned just walked out of the Counselor's office. . .

Gust knew he would be disenchanted after the visit to the counselor. Truth is he went in half expecting the counselor to throw arguments at him to convince him to stay in school. Well, the counselor did try didn't he: Your fourth year in Anthropology, how can you even consider dropping out at this point?

Gust felt the dawning of a nausea that always announced itself by propelling him to the nearest newsstand. Not that literature was an escape or anything. What are the chances of him finding literature in a newsstand anyway. He just loved to gorge himself with news of any kind-celebrity profiles, interviews with politicians, sports editorials-you get the picture. Just as long as he can force-feed the mind with garbage so any news flashes from the personal world would be smothered.

It's not like you have to go to the Peace Corps after this! You just have to do a semester

Where is the rain when you need one? Gust thought. Loud rain pellets dancing on top of stranded cars with the usual name calling and honking among the drivers would have fit right around Gust's mood. Instead he saw an orange sky with a few strokes of clouds like a slightly wrinkled blanket. Nature has a way of looking tranquil when your personal landscape is a minefield and Gust knew this well.

The hide-and-seek Gust played with his memory became futile once his feet halted to cross the road to the Bus Station. The counselor's words assaulted him:

You just have to do a semester in a country of your choice and you can plunge right into the workforce afterwards. We have excellent placement for our students, especially in the Anthropology department. From listening to you, you don't really care about making loads of money so what's the hang up, champ? I hear most people in your major go to Hawaii or Mexico have an extended Spring Break and come back with smiles. . .

Damn it, the newsstand is closed. What do I do now? Gust hadn't planned on making any more decisions for the rest of that day and now hated to see himself at the cusp of a decision.

"Number 45 going to Aliento will depart in five minutes." Announced the intercom.

Maybe the alien in Aliento seemed very fitting to Gust's mood. He bought the ticket to this place which remained several hours away.

The bus engine revved up. Most people had boarded. Gust climbed in anxiously like a kid getting on a roller coaster. An old show tune by Doris Day spread cheer from a small radio nested above the driver's window. On the driver's seat: a thirtyish dark man with a bushy black beard, an Arab, guessed Gust. He waved Gust to the back of the bus.

Inside, the bus was dimly lit. Immediately as he entered Gust locked eyes with three teens dressed identically, except for the colors, in baggy chinos, striped Tshirts and snow caps. Two to the left, one to the right, they each occupied two seats with their legs stretched beyond the length of the seats and backs resting on the windows. They review and dismiss Gust as irrelevant in moments of notice and return to their discussion. A few empty rows back sat a middle aged Asian lady dressed in a royal blue skirt and blouse embroidered with glitter. She busied herself with a handy calculator. Her cheeks were thickly rouged, upstaged only by the purplish shadow above her angled eyes. She threw Gust a winning smile with such allure that Gust was convinced she must have been a popular troubadore in her prime.

The only other person in the bus was a disheveled man who grunted and groaned from some spasmic pain. Gust couldn't bear to look at the contorted guy, he quickly picked a spot that left at least two rows between him and the rest of the passengers. With specific decisions staring him down, Gust felt relief at not knowing his destination. A sense of exhilaration took over him. There was no threat of expectations; his life had literally been transported to a new judgement-free zone.

From the back of the bus the Convulsion guy moved to the seat behind Gust.

"Hey there, partner, so what's your pleasure? Craps, slots or Black Jack?"

"Huh?" That was all Gust could manage.

"Stupid question, huh? It's obvious you're a Black Jack kinda guy. Am I right?"

Two questions with the promise of more to come convinced Gust to turn sideways and face Convulsions in the face. Unkempt is the most complimentary word Gust could attach to that face. Severely sun burnt face, white skin peeling off the forehead, cheeks; nearly bloody around the ears. Bulging blue-green eyes ready to pop like puss.

"Listen, you gotta smoke?"

Smoking is not permitted in the bus!

The intercom announcement threw everybody on the bus. Hard to believe that the driver actually heard the guy ask for a cigarette from seven rows away, thought Gust. He clearly remembered the guy not even making any gestures about smoking, he wasn't even loud. Maybe just a wild coincidence, Gust told himself. But that failed to satisfy as an explanation. Gust felt spooked.

"Why do you look like you ran your toes through something sharp?"

"What? It's just that, now how did the driver hear you?"

"Ah that. He does it all the time. The bus is probably bugged. Surveillance cameras everywhere, buddy. They know everything you say and do. It's worse at the "Frontier ," man. This one time a buddy of mine and I were playing poker at different tables, right? I just looks over and nods to him, give him a wink, you know. . . letting him know things are okay with me. That's it. A bunch of Injuns came out of every door in the room and asked us both to drop everything and follow them. A shame I telI you, had a good hand too. We thought they was gonna kill us, man. They took us back to the loading dock, stripped us and whupped us till we spilled the beans. But we got nothing to say, we weren't doing nothing wrong. They hosed us in hot water after and then gave back our clothes. Told us never to set foot in the poker room. Never touched cards since. Nothing gets by them, man. They watch everything."

"That's a casino you're talking about. This is a damn bus, okay. What's the point of bugging a bus? First, it costs too much. Second, who cares?"

"Fine, you go on believing what you want. Get whupped and hosed in hot water, you would start believing real fast."

"I see you were hurt, but what's that gotta. . .where do you see the surveilance camera here? Tell me that."

"Exactly. Where do you see them? Where do you see them? Exactly." The guy laughed obnoxiously.

The boys looked at Gust and Convulsions, mumbled something and snickered among themselves. The Asian lady looked too, she showed a more sympathetic face towards Gust as if he was the victim of a nasty prank.

"What did you mean when you said he does this all the time? Do you take this bus a lot?"

"Yeah. The best place for hoboes like me is the Frontier . This bus goes straight there."

"This goes to the casino?"

"Man what did you have for breakfast? Why the hell would you get on this if you're not going to Frontier ?"

"Does this stop anywhere else?"

"Two fart little towns, both on the way. Man, my head hurts."

Convulsions put his head into his hands, crouched towards the window and pulled his leg up in a fetal position. Gust knew that any more conversation with that guy would be useless. The Asian lady turned around and stared at him.

"Is something wrong?" Gust asked without any trace of the enthusiasm he had briefly while boarding the bus.

"You want to know about the casino?"

"Sure, why not?"

"It used to be an Indian Reservation, now they turned it into a big casino. The government gave these American Indians gambling license to make up for their poor conditions. Now they make lots of money. Lots of money. Before they used to lie around on the roads, fully drunk. Don't get me wrong I'm not racist but they don't work hard for a living, you know?"

"They're supposed to be very wise people. They have a totally unique culture. Besides, the U.S. pretty much annihilated them. This is chump change in compensation."

"I don't know much history, maybe you do. All I know is Indians lost. They fought back and they lost. They are captured. When you are captured you don't have much rights."

Gust became furious at this comment. He couldn't believe the blunt arrogance in the lady's words. But before he could say anything she continued.

"The Japanese never gave anything to the Chinese to make up for all their tortures. That's the way it goes. I keep talking, sorry. If you are new to Aliento I know a good place you can stay. Very cheap. . ."

"That's okay. I'll find something."

The lady looked hurt at Gust's abrupt answer. Her eyes lingered on him a few seconds, then she turned around to her previous position. Gust felt agitated but his mind felt peculiarly intrigued. His mind had not received this much to chew on in a long time. This is better than any Anthropology class, he thought.

The three teens got louder or maybe the quiet from the rest of the passengers elevated their noise. The way they wailed their laughs assured Gust that they were talking absolute smut. While he prepared for a way to circumvent the situation, the bus came to a halt in a run-down bus depot.

Bus will stop at Tempest for 20 minutes.

The driver announced through the intercom and got out of the bus with an unlit cigarette in his lips. Gust looked at the driver to gain some clue about his acute hearing. Very hairy; arms, neck, face, not to mention the head, there is hair everywhere. Nearly six feet, lanky in a loose fitting uniform-khaki pants, white short sleeve shirt tucked in and a ridiculous sailor's cap in black. Gust thought he looked like one of those fringe characters in a Bogart movie.

Every one had stepped out of the bus except Gust. His body felt tightly wound despite the excellent ride. The kids were smoking in the depot's shaded benches. The Asian lady sipped something hot from a foam cup near the mobile food truck parked by the depot's entrance. Convulsion bummed a smoke from the driver who even lit the guy up in a friendly manner. As he walked towards the front entrance, a pair of huge earphones on the driver's seat caught his eye. He picked it up and tried it on his head. Not a beep. Suddenly, he clearly heard the three kids laughing and cussing. He looked inside the bus, they weren't there. His eyes searched all around and they were skating fifteen feet from the bus. Still, they were the closest thing to the bus. A chilling realization dawned on Gust before he could put it together in words. Making like listening to music the driver had eavesdropped on everybody's conversation with the earphone device.

Gust had intended to get a candy bar or some such trifle to hold him up the rest of the journey, but the shocking discovery moved his feet towards the driver. He couldn't figure whether he despised the driver or was surprised at his tactics. Most of all he wanted an explanation. Though he wouldn't admit to it the exhilaration of having caught the driver in the act and the joy of taunting him with the discovery must have been the main motivation.

The driver let out huge puffs and looked in high spirits. With a wide grin he waved to Gust. His name tag on the shirt pocket read "Ramu."

"What's up colonel? You enjoying the ride?"

"Had its moments. Are you Arab or Indian?"

"Indian. Southie to be exact, Madrasian to be precise."

Ramu spoke freely without any of the usual inhibitions associated with foreign speakers of English. Could have grown up here, thought Gust.

"Ramoo, am I saying it right?"

"I know you are addressing me. That's all a name is supposed to do so go ahead, what's up?"

"Have you ever thrown anybody off the bus?"

Ramu gives a throaty laugh and shakes his head.

"You have any candidates in mind?" He points to all the bus patrons.

"Just a question."

"No, as a matter of fact I have never thrown anyone out. But I've told people to get off based on someone's complaint. Company policy, without someone complaining about somebody, we can't throw people out. We'll get our ass sued."

"Yeah? How would your company feel about eavesdroppers?"

The cigarette about to be pulled out from his lips got twirled around by his fingers instead. His eyes compressed as he let out a huge cloud of smoke.

"Did you know the earphones can take in anything in a twenty yard radius? If you had turned on my radio that's what you would've heard. What makes you think I listen to people?"

"Okay, maybe I can't make a case against you, there's no proof. But there's no way you could've heard the guy ask me for a smoke without tuning in to our conversation. Why do you do it? I'm curious. I'm not going to press charges, relax.."

"I've been driving this bus for four years. Same route. After awhile the radio loses its charm, you know. I have this weird notion about understanding humanity. It sounds hoaky, I know, but. . ."

"No it doesn't."

"I just wanted to find out what's on people's mind. First-hand confessions, can't get any better than this for knowledge. I use it to engage myself on long drives. I don't use it to hurt people or blackmail them. If it gets personal and irrelevant I turn it off and switch to classic oldies on the radio."

"Why were you interested in our conversation?"

"Why not? An artsy college guy sharing a ride with a hobo. How fun. I decided to check it out. Wasn't all that exciting the way it turned out. The one you had with the Asian lady had something going, but you cut her off, too bad."

"You sound like a pretty bright guy. Why do you drive a bus?"

"Two trips a day, evenings free, strong union, two weeks paid vacation. Good enough for paying rent with money left over. What else do you need?"

Gust shakes his head and looks at his shoes.

"You're still not sure about me are you? You think I'm this sleazebag."

"I mean, how different is what you do from watching talk shows? You get all the dirt, the underside of humans. . .isn't it wrong? I don't think I would feel comfortable carrying a conversation in this bus again."

"Isn't it wrong? I don't think I will? You don't seem all that sure. You think I do this for the sleaze? That's very simplistic and you're taking the moral highroad. Now if you, if you sit behind two people and happen to overhear a conversation, especially something that intrigues you, aren't you going to listen in? I usually hear what's within earshot of everybody else."

"What you do is your business I guess."

"Okay, Gus let's get on the bus. Got another hour to ride till Frontier ."

As if everybody had discovered the driver's whereabouts not much happened in the form of conversation in the bus. The passengers were in slumber. Even the kids were dozing off. Gust couldn't decide how to take the bus driver who offered no apology or remorse for what he did. Despite outing the driver's secret, Gust felt upstaged by him. He too felt tired and gave in to the lull of the bus on uneven roads, the growing darkness and fading sounds of traffic around the bus.

Okay, the driver just got out of the crapper. You'll have to take it from here. I gotta go finish some other stories.

Gust felt someone pressing on his shoulder. He shuddered awake to realize he was the last one in the bus. The driver had parked the bus at a depot. He had a small woven bag slung across his body and appeared to head out. The driver smiled.

"Do you know where you're going, Gus?"

"Gust. My name is Gust."

"You may know your name, but you still don't know where you're going, is that right?"

"Where is the casino?"

The driver points with his left hand,

"Couple of miles that way. You could have got out right in front."

"Obviously I slept through. Is there any cheap motel around here?"

"Right next to the casino. Thirty dollars a night. Or you can brave it at the casino till 5 in the morning and catch the bus going back. In any case, I need you to get off this bus."

"Shit, why the hell did I get on this fucking bus?"

"That's one of those rhetorical questions right? Looks like you're lost, colonel. Come have a drink with me; the least I can do for the guy who broke my secret tap."

"Where's the bar? No let me guess, it's in the casino right?

"Sure a fast learner, Gust. When are you done with school?"

"Jury's still out on that one."

"That's not all bad you know. Being confused at your age is healthy. It means you still got a soul flickering to stay alive. What are you in, Business?"

"God no. Anthropology. But I'm at a point where I have to get a marketable internship."

"That's rough. You feel like drinking at the casino or cracking a few at my place?"

"Whatever."

"The grocery store is across the road. I live a block from here. . ."

"That's cool then."

Hostile images of rape went through Gust's mind. He dismissed the thought by asserting himself that he could take the driver if it came to that.